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Only then do I turn back.

Semiyon is practically vibrating with rage.

“You brought that bitch into this situation deliberately.”

I almost laugh.

“This situation existed before she ever met me.”

“You’re playing games.”

“No.” I unbutton the cuffs of my sleeves. Snap the buttons out of the holes efficiently. “I’m winning a case.”

His face twists into an ugly sneer, a missing tooth on the left side leaving just a black, gaping hole. I’m sure that’s what it looks like where his soul should be.

“It won’t make a difference. I don’t give a shit about her.”

There it is. The words land exactly as I expect them to, and they should anger me, but they only send a cold sliver of ice through my veins. Arthur glances toward the car. Matilda is too far away to hear this. Thank fuck.

She has seen enough of what kind of man he is. She doesn’t need those words in her head too.

Semiyon opens his mouth to start shouting again, trying to draw the attention of courthouse security. Art steps forward and puts one large hand on the smaller, thinner man’s chest, backing him into a shallow recess around the outside corner, out of the entrance’s sight line. Semiyon lets out a grunt, his hands scrambling for Arthur’s thick wrist.

I come up quickly and wrap my own around his throat.

“You,” I warn, “are not going to go near her. Ever. Do you understand?”

Semiyon lets out another panicked grunt, struggling to breathe. His eyes bolt from me to Art, and then…they widen.

Just slightly.

Enough.

Blyat’. This was a mistake.

His lips twist into a grin. “You dumb fuck,” he wheezes, his windpipe clicking beneath my grip. “Did you know who she was when you found her? When you hired her? Did you know she was my blood?”

My blood boils, and Arthur shifts slightly in warning. Not here, his posture says, though I refuse to meet his eyes.

Outside a courthouse would be a bad place to kill a man. But I’m tempted.

“She’s not just your attorney, is she? Just like she’s not just some dumb bitch to me…not really. She’s my daughter. You’ve got a hard-on for my daughter, you pridurok⁠—”

My hand wraps around his throat. “If you come near her, Semiyon.”

I cut off the air he’s breathing, and Semiyon struggles, gasping satisfyingly, until⁠—

A blaze of sharp pain makes me falter. Just enough to make my fingers loosen, and Semiyon moves again, his arm jerking in a short spasm. Arthur growls and hauls him away from me.

Looking down, I see blood starting to seep through my shirt. It’s right where Matilda touched me earlier, grounding herself, looking for safety.

He cut me.

Arthur has Semiyon’s right wrist and is bashing it against the concrete brick wall, the older man hissing with each blow, until the knife clatters to the ground. It’s short and bright with my blood along the blade. I’ve had worse, but I keep my hand pressed to my side.

But Semiyon takes the opportunity to run.

He scrambles around the corner and down the service path toward the parked cars. I reach out to stop Arthur.